


The Perks of Being a Misfit

by sage-major (Cinza_Snicholls)



Category: Perks of Being a Wallflower - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Homophobia, M/M, Perks, Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Misfit, Violence, the perks of being a wallflower
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2017-12-05 09:14:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinza_Snicholls/pseuds/sage-major
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You ever think, Charlie, that our group is the same as any other group like the football team? And the only real difference between us is what we wear and why we wear it?”</p>
<p>I drove around in a haze for a while, because I didn’t want to go back to the house until Sam was home. I watched the people walking around, and I looked at all the people in the cars, leaning over to turn up the radio, tapping on the steering wheel, frowning, laughing. I wondered if any of them would crash their cars today, or tomorrow, even though I was the one driving around stoned.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Letters from Patrick's point of view, covering most of the second half of the book.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

April 26, 1992

 

Dear friend,

I’m writing to you because I know that Charlie has been writing to you for weeks and you haven’t figured out who he is yet. He told me I could write to you too, but he asked me to promise not to tell you his real name, or even mine. I promised him, so I hope you don’t mind, but I guess I’m going to be as secretive as he is.

I didn’t write to you before now because I didn’t need to. But right now things aren’t going so well and I feel like maybe writing it down could make things a bit better.

I haven’t seen Charlie since Good Friday when we all went to Craig’s apartment and Charlie kissed Sam instead of Mary Elizabeth.

Sam’s been upset because Craig is angry about Charlie. I don’t know. I think that if he feels threatened by a fifteen-year-old, maybe there’s something wrong there. Although I guess anyone can see that Charlie loves Sam. Still, a kid like him. I don’t get why Craig’s so bothered about it.

I feel bad that I haven’t called Charlie again, or taken him anywhere, because I know he must be hurting. But I don’t really have room in my head for even one more thing right now.

Things have been bad with Brad, and I guess that’s why I’m writing this, really.

It’s holidays, so there’s no Friday night parties. His dad is at home instead of working all the time like usual, and Brad is so paranoid about him finding out.

It hurts, honestly. I try to pretend that I don’t mind, but I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up.

 

Love always,

Patrick

 

 

 

 

May 1, 1992

 

Dear friend,

I don’t know what to do. I thought things were going to get better, but right now everything is worse than I could have imagined.

Brad’s parents went away for a couple of days, so Brad said I could come over and stay the night at his place, just as long as I was out before they got back. It felt better to be with him at his house, to sleep in his bed afterwards instead of driving away from the freaking golf course. We were free, and we didn’t have to rush, didn’t have to feel guilty about being together. It was a glimpse of what it could have been like for us if people were different.

It was morning, and we were just lying together in Brad’s bed, half our clothes on and half on the floor. It felt warm and peaceful, and I could feel his breathing, slow and calm. Brad was looking at me, right at me without shying away, for the first time in a long while. And he was about to say something, I’m sure he was, but the door opened and there was Brad’s father.

We hadn’t heard him come in, because I guess a man doesn’t feel the need to knock coming into his own home. He was home early, and it was too late to hide anything, but Brad was scrambling to put his clothes on. I got dressed too, scared by the look Brad’s father had on his face. And then he started yelling, so loud that I couldn’t understand the words, didn’t want to. Brad was shaking and still trying to put his shirt on, and I reached out to help him. That’s when Brad’s father took off his belt and started beating him.

I was so shocked that I just froze. I was expecting him to stop, to realise what he was doing. But he didn’t stop. He kept on going, red-faced, whacking his belt-buckle against Brad’s bare back, over and over.

I wanted to hurt him then, more than I’ve ever wanted to hurt someone before. I wanted to scream at him until he stopped, scream at him until I had no voice left. I wanted to yell at him for hurting Brad, yell at Brad for letting him.

But Brad shouted at me to get out, and I did, because there was nothing else to do. I was crying by then, and I probably looked more scared than angry.

But God, I was angry.

 

I don’t know what to do. Brad still hasn’t come to school, and I’m so afraid that they’ve sent him away. I’ve had the awful thought that maybe Brad’s father just kept going and hurt him really badly. I’m trying not to think about that, because it makes me feel like panicking.

I tried calling once, but Brad’s father answered, so I just hung up.

I really don’t know what to do.

 

Love always,

Patrick

 

 

 

 

May 2, 1992

 

Dear friend,

I feel like I’m falling apart.

I’ve heard nothing this whole weekend. I tried calling again even though I knew it would be useless. There was silence on the other end, and I think Brad’s father knew it was me. I put the phone down. I thought about driving to his house, but I knew that would be a bad idea.

Sam saw me pacing up and down, and she sat me down on the couch.

“What if he’s not okay?” I asked her. “What if he’s in the hospital right now?”

She shook her head. “He’s not.”

“If they’ve sent him away –”

“Patrick. Patrick, listen to me.” She waited until I met her eyes. “Do you know what Brad’s parents care about? It’s not their son, that’s for sure. They care about what other people think. They care about their rich fucking neighbours, with their plastic smiles and their plastic hearts.”

I just looked at her until she said, “They wouldn’t send him away, because people would ask them why. _Nice boy like Brad, all set to get a football scholarship? Why would you send him to military school?_ ”

I nod. “Okay.”

“They’re going to keep him here, but you can bet they’ll be watching him the whole time.”

Her eyes got sad. “I’m sorry, Patrick, but I think the worst thing isn’t going to be them hurting Brad, it’s going to be Brad hurting you.”

She walked away then, and I wanted to call after her, but I didn’t know what to say.

I guess I know now that she was right. I called Brad’s house again tonight, and I was so relieved when I heard his voice on the other end.

“Hello?”

“Brad! Are you okay?”

He didn’t say anything, but I could hear his breathing. Then, from another room, “Bradley? Who’s on the phone?”

There was a rustle as Brad turned around, and then he called, “It’s no one. Nobody important.”

There was a click, and the line cut out.

 

Love always,

Patrick

 

 

 

 

May 7, 1992

 

Dear friend,

I think I’ll have to keep writing these letters, because things keep happening to me. I feel like I’m being crushed. Crushed inwards. This is my life.

Is this really the best I can hope for?

On Monday, Brad came back to school. I was looking at him to see if he was hurt, and he was. Not physically; you couldn’t see the welts beneath his shirt, but there was something in his eyes. He looked down at the floor, and when he saw me walking down the corridor, he stared anywhere else but at me. His friends were around, so I just kept walking.

At lunchtime I went up to him at his locker. I didn’t care that there were people in the corridor, I didn’t care that Brad probably didn’t want to talk to me.

I spoke quietly to him with my head bent. “Brad, talk to me. Please.”

He just kept shoving books into his locker, not even turning his head to look at me.

“I’m sorry, Brad. I’m sorry that happened to you. But I don’t care what your dad thinks. He doesn’t control you. Brad?”

He stopped with the books, but he didn’t say anything. I could see a muscle twitching in his jaw while he stared straight ahead.

I don’t know what I expected. Not a warm welcome, that’s for sure. But not silence, either. I closed my eyes for a second. Because nothing hurts like nothing at all.

“Brad...” Then I said something I’d never said before, because I thought it might scare him. “I love you.”

He closed his locker and walked away.

 

I went outside and took out a cigarette, trying to stop myself from shaking. On the second try I lit it, sucked hard. I breathed out slowly, but I wasn’t relaxing.

_Brad’s voice: “Nobody important.” Brad’s back, walking away down the corridor._

I was gasping, gasping, the cigarette forgotten in my hand. I started crying hard, struggling to breathe.

“Damn it, damn it, damn it.”

I took a long drag on the cigarette, pulling the smoke into my lungs. The tears started to drip onto my collar, and I walked away, not even looking where I was going, because I couldn’t go back in there like that. I couldn’t let Brad see me, because I didn’t know if it would hurt him to see me like that, or if he’d ignore it. And I didn’t know which would be worse.

For the next few days I walked around, I went through the motions, but I felt like I was barely there. I didn’t tell Sam what I said to Brad, and I tried not to let her see how much I was hurting. But I think she knew anyway.

Then, yesterday, I saw him sitting in the cafeteria with his buddies, and I just couldn’t walk past.

“Brad. Brad, talk to me.”

His friends were kind of laughing, and he looked away like I wasn’t even there.

“Brad!” I was starting to get angry. “Don’t ignore me, Brad.”

He glanced at me, then away again, fixing his eyes on another table. I stepped closer to his seat. “I’m not nothing!”

I walked away, wanting to get out of there, away from Brad’s friends who were staring at me like I was crazy.

“Faggot!”

It can’t have been that loud, but it echoed in my head, over and over. I froze where I stood, then turned and stormed over to the table. Brad’s idiot football buddies were laughing, but Brad wasn’t smiling.

“What did you call me?” I demanded.

Brad hesitated, but his friends were laughing and pushing on his shoulders. He looked up at me, straight into my eyes, and said quietly, “I called you a faggot.”

The laughing cut off when I threw a punch at Brad. It was as hard as I could manage, and knocked him backwards, off his chair. I was vaguely aware of the swell of noise around me as Brad picked himself up and threw himself at me. His fist pounded into my jaw, my guts. But I was angrier, so I hit back faster, harder. He shoved me in the chest, my fist grazed his ear, I felt his elbow connect with my nose. I could hear blood pounding in my ears, and when his foot slipped I followed him down, rolling and hitting. There were tears on my cheeks as I struck into him again and again, as he slammed his forehead into my nose and I felt it crunch.

I felt a boot imbed painfully in my side, one of Brad’s friends. Another one pushed me off of Brad, pulled him to his feet. I looked up and there were five of them standing over me, Brad looking half-scared, half-angry. I struggled up to my feet and launched myself at the nearest boy. He was a lot bigger than me but I didn’t care; I was past caring by then. They were everywhere at once, and I felt pain explode in multiple places at once. I sank down to my knees, then gave up and rolled into a ball on the floor, sobbing and trying not to choke. They buried their kicks in weak places; one got my head, my stomach, my nuts.

It stopped, but I kept my eyes closed, waiting. Was there a teacher in here?

I opened my eyes, and Charlie was standing with his back to me, punching, swiping at one of their faces. Jake, I think. Another one was on the floor clutching his knee. They stopped and just stared at Charlie, who was still holding his hands in tight fists.

After a moment Charlie seemed to relax a bit, and he turned around, reaching a hand down to me. I took it and stood up even though it hurt. I leaned on Charlie, and he glared at Brad.

“If you ever do this again, I’ll tell everyone. And if that doesn’t work, I’ll blind you.”

He pointed at Brad’s friend who was holding his face. I could see Brad’s expression, and I knew he believed what Charlie said.

People started backing away then, moving aside to let the security guards of our school take us all out of there.

They took us to the nurse and she went straight to me even though that guy could barely walk on his knee. I guess I looked pretty messed up, blood and snot and tears everywhere. She did what she could to clean me up, and she said that my nose wasn’t broken.

Then she went over to check that Jake’s eyes were okay, and I just looked at Charlie. He looked back at me, and I said, “Thanks, Charlie.”

He nodded, and even then I couldn’t stop crying. Charlie looked like he might be going to hug me, but I was glad when he didn’t because I’m sure it would have hurt quite a lot.

They took us to Mr Small’s office, where they told me that I’m suspended for a week for starting the fight. I didn’t argue, because I don’t think I would have wanted to be at school anyway. I asked if I could leave right away, and Mr Small looked at my face for a moment and then nodded.

I got out of there as fast as I could, without looking at any of them, even Charlie.

I guess Sam had already heard what happened, because she was waiting for me outside. She hugged me, which hurt, but not as much as I thought it would, because she was careful. She told me she loved me, and I cried a bit more.

Then she led me to the Girls’ toilets, “Because who cares, really?” Sam said. “Everyone’s in lessons anyway.”

I looked into the mirror and saw that my face didn’t look too bad, apart from a bit of dried blood here and there. Sam helped me clean myself up, and she smiled at the result.

“Handsome as ever,” she told me, and I laughed a little bit.

She drove me home in her pickup truck, and she turned the radio on so that we wouldn’t have to fill up the silence by talking. I sat quiet and tried to focus on all the places on my body that hurt so that I didn’t have to think about the bigger hurt of Brad walking away.

 

Love always,

Patrick

 


	2. Chapter 2

May 11, 1992

                                                   

Dear friend,

I woke up aching on Friday morning, and I rolled over groaning. I remembered that I didn’t have to go to school and was relieved about that, at least. On Thursday night I just went straight to bed after Sam went off to pick up Charlie from detention. I dreamed that Brad said he loved me too, but then I tried to kiss him and he spat in my face instead.

That morning Dad was waiting in the kitchen when I went out to get breakfast, realising I was hungry after skipping dinner. He sat at the table following me around with his eyes while I made myself breakfast. Then I sat down across from him and met his gaze.

My parents knew about me and Brad, but I guess they didn’t know enough to make them worried before now. Dad asked me some questions about Brad which were hard for me to answer, and then he told me to look after myself, and that he loves me.  

He went to work after that, and the house was empty because Sam was in school, and all the rooms felt bigger with no one but me in them. All the time I’d been talking to my dad I was wishing he’d go, even though he meant well, but as soon as he was gone I wanted him to come back.

I didn’t think I could handle being alone for long, so I drove over to Bob’s. He seemed relatively sober, for Bob anyway. He let me in and gave me a hug, and then he tried to console me in the Bob way of consoling someone, which was to offer me some pot. I thought _what the hell_ and smoked it with him.

I felt relaxed and okay for a while, but then I started to feel like crying again, so I got up and left because I didn’t want to cry in front of Bob.

I drove around in a haze for a while, because I didn’t want to go back to the house until Sam was home. I watched the people walking around, and I looked at all the people in the cars, leaning over to turn up the radio, tapping on the steering wheel, frowning, laughing. I wondered if any of them would crash their cars today, or tomorrow, even though I was the one driving around stoned.

I went with Sam to _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_ because she asked me to, but I didn’t really want to be there. I told them I didn’t feel like playing Frank ‘N Furter that night, or ever again.

I sat and watched the show in the audience with Charlie, and I couldn’t stop myself from saying what was in my head.

“You ever think, Charlie, that our group is the same as any other group like the football team? And the only real difference between us is what we wear and why we wear it?”

He looked at me, and he frowned, and said, “Yeah?”

“Well, I think it’s all bullshit.”

And I meant it, too.

I turned around and watched the people on the stage again, until they started to look blurry and I sat back and stared at the ceiling instead.

I went home with Sam and ate, trying to look happy. I lay down on my bed in my clothes, but I woke up crying and hated my dreams. I sat up and ran my hands through my hair, and then I left, quietly so that I wouldn’t wake anyone up. I got in my car and drove along the quiet streets, stopped when I saw the fluorescent lights of a Quick Mart. I bought a coffee and drank it all, and then another. I wandered around, glad that no one was around, and then I bought cigarettes and Mini Thins and more coffee. I left because the lights were hurting my eyes, and chain-smoked in the car for a while. I played the second side of the mix tape Charlie made for me over and over.

I started to feel tired so I swallowed some of the Mini Thins, but they made me thirsty and I had to drink more coffee. Feeling awake and alive, I pulled away, fast. I almost crashed into a dark-green sports car, and I pulled over to wait until I stopped shaking. I let my head fall onto the steering wheel, not caring that the horn was blaring through the pale morning.

I drove again, slower, sipping coffee. I wondered if I should go home, but I didn’t want to sleep yet. Or ever, preferably.

I parked, smoked, checked the time every now and again. I had an idea and drove back to the Quick Mart. I asked the exhausted-looking worker if I could use their phone, and she led me over to it.

“Charlie?” A pause.

“This is Charlie’s mum.”

“It’s Patrick. Charlie’s friend.” My voice cracked a little on that word.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll see if he’s awake.”

“Thanks.”

There was rustling, and then Charlie’s sleepy voice, “Hello?”

“Get dressed. I’m on my way.”

I hung up so that he couldn’t argue, because I didn’t think I could bear it if he said no.

I got to his house ten minutes later, and Charlie was ready. I felt a surge of affection for him all of a sudden, and I felt bad for not paying more attention when he was upset. He got into the car and seemed surprised by the cloud of smoke which surrounded my seat. I offered him a cigarette, but he shook his head. “Not in front of the house.”

“You parents don’t know you smoke?”

“No. Should they?”

“I guess not.”

I pull away from the curb, fast, thinking about how many things I do that my parents have no idea about. Like this, for example. Sam will cover for me.

I turned up the volume of the mix tape as “Blackbird” by The Beatles came on. And I started to smile. I don’t know. I don’t think it was a good kind of smile, but at least it was a smile.

“I’ll tell you something, Charlie. I feel good. You know what I mean? Really good. Like I’m free or something. Like I don’t have to pretend anymore. I’m going away to college, right? It’ll be different there. You know what I mean?”

“Sure,” he said.

“I’ve been thinking all night about what kind of posters I’ll have up in my dorm room. And if I’ll have an exposed brick wall. I always wanted an exposed brick wall, so I can paint it. Know what I mean?”

I could imagine it so easily. Away from here, away from all the small-minded people and the rich neighbours.

“Things’ll be different there. They have to be.”

“They will be,” he said.

“You really think so?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks, Charlie.”

I wound down the window and blew a thin stream of smoke into the morning air. Charlie looked over at me and I said, “Wanna go see a movie?”

He shrugged, so we did. It was fairly awful, although it did have this one great scene where the old man choked on his cabbage soup and nearly died. Charlie laughed for ages and I laughed too because he was, but then I stopped pretty quick.

I felt tired again so I bought a coffee and ate a few Mini Thins. Then Charlie said he was hungry, and I figured that I’d taken him away from his breakfast, so we got pizza. I wasn’t hungry but I ate anyway, and then felt sick.

It started to get dark and I drove Charlie around, showing him all the places that I used to go with Brad. It hurt to look at them, but I did it anyway. I thought it might make me feel better, but I guess I was wrong.

I used my fairly-decent fake ID to buy a bottle of red wine, and we sat on the eighteenth green of the golf course, passing the bottle back and forth and talking.

We told stories and got drunker, and I felt okay for a while.

I had to drive Charlie home, so we sobered up a bit on coffee and Mini Thins, and I figured I was okay to drive.

We stopped outside Charlie’s house, and the second side of Charlie’s mix tape was playing real quiet, and I thought about him making it for me, and I thought about him beating up Brad’s buddies, and I thought about how he understands things.

I turned to him. “Thanks, Charlie.”

“Sure.”

“No. I mean in the cafeteria,” I said, even though I meant a lot of things.

“Sure.”

I leaned over then, to hug him goodnight. And I kissed him on the lips. Not because I wanted to come onto him or anything. I guess because I wanted to reassure myself that there was someone who still cared enough to let me do that.

I pulled away and looked at his face to make sure I hadn’t freaked him out.

“I’m sorry.”

“No. That’s okay.”

“Really. I’m sorry.”

“No, really. It was okay.”

So I said, “Thanks,” and hugged him again. I kissed him again, and he just stayed still and let me, because he’s that good of a friend, I guess.

I leaned back and just sat there for a while, and I started to feel more sober. It didn’t feel good.

I started crying, and I didn’t even feel embarrassed about it, because I knew Charlie didn’t mind. I told Charlie about Brad. The good things. Because it seemed to me that I’d only ever told him the bad things before, and I wanted to remember it how it really was. I told him about the first time that Brad reached out to take my hand in front of Sam and Bob and Mary Elizabeth, and how he smiled at me. The others saw, but they didn’t say anything, they just kept quiet and Sam smiled into her paper cup.

“And there was this one time when we got to be alone together for a while, and we didn’t do anything, we just hugged. And Brad said, ‘Tell me all the little things about you that no one knows. That no one notices. Tell me all of it. Because I want to hear.’ And I told him, Charlie. I talked for so long, and he listened to all of it. And he remembered. I know he did.”

I thought about the last night that I was with Brad, and how I almost told him that I loved him then. But I didn’t, because I was afraid to ruin the moment. I can’t believe how much I wish I’d told him. I know it wouldn’t have changed anything that’s happened since, but I still wish I’d said it. So that he could have known that while things were still good. Maybe that’s what makes me saddest of all.

I came home to find Sam sitting on the couch, waiting for me.

“Did you tell them something?” I asked her, and she nodded. She looked angry, and I stepped into the pool of light cast by the lamp. She stood up and said to me, quietly, fiercely, “Where have you _been_ , Patrick?”

I shook my head, confused and dazed from lack of sleep. “Out. With Charlie.”

“Well, just...just fucking tell me next time, okay?”

“Sorry. Okay. Sorry.”

Her voice got softer then.  “You left last night, didn’t you?”

I nodded, swallowing. “I just wanted to get out, you know? I wanted to be free.” Then, choking, “I’m sorry. I don’t want to sleep. Sam, help. I don’t want to sleep.”

I was crying by the time I got through the words, and Sam pulled me into a hug straight away. I shook and shook, and she held me still while tears poured out. I don’t think I’ve ever cried so much before.

I was thinking about a lot of things at once, and struggling to breathe. I was thinking about Brad, and his smile, and his fists hitting my face, and I was thinking about escaping, and I was thinking what if our parents wake up and find me here, and I was thinking how much this hurts, and thank God I have Sam and Charlie and they care.

Sam sat down on the couch, and I sort of lay down with my head on her lap. I cried and cried, big, real sobs that ached in my chest. They hurt on the way out, but I couldn’t hold them in anymore. I shook while the sobs ripped their way out of my throat, and Sam just looked into my eyes, and she was crying too, little silent tears which dripped onto my shirt with mine. She didn’t try to talk me into being happy, she just sat there and cried with me, and I’m so grateful to her for that.

The sobs started to slow down until I wasn’t gasping for air anymore, and it was just slow quiet tears. Sam stopped crying and just looked incredibly sad, and she stroked back my hair while my heartbeat went back to normal. My eyes started to droop closed and I was so exhausted but I jerked them open anyway.

“It’s okay,” Sam said softly. “It’s okay. You can sleep. You can sleep. You’re safe here.”

And I let my eyes close while she murmured to me, over and over, “I love you, Patrick. It’s okay. You’re my brother, and I love you. It’s all okay. You can sleep now.”

 

 

Love always,

Patrick

 

 

 

May 17, 1992

 

Dear friend,

I guess I feel a bit better. I don’t know.

I’ve been spending a lot of time with Charlie lately, and I’ve spent a lot of time feeling awful as well. I almost wish for school just to have something to fill up my days. I’ve been thinking a lot about leaving here for college. I’m not sure exactly where to go, but I need not to be here. I know that much.

I picked Charlie up in the afternoons, after he’d walked home from his detention, because he said he likes the walk. I started every night feeling great, because I had my car and I felt like I could drive anywhere, or just keep going, drive and drive all the way out of this stupid town. I sent my thoughts to far-off places, where they might have a better chance of fitting in.

I took Charlie to this park one night, where men go to find each other. I felt bad for bringing him there, so I told him not to make eye contact with anyone, and they’d just ignore him.

I picked up this boy, and in retrospect I guess I noticed him because he looked a bit like Brad. I wasn’t thinking that at the time, though. I wanted to forget Brad, move on somehow. But I felt terrible afterwards, like I was dirty all of a sudden. I left pretty quickly because I didn’t want to be that guy who cries afterwards, especially because I didn’t know this guy. I didn’t even ask his name.

I went back to the park and found Charlie smoking on a bench. I drove him home, and then I sat in the car drinking for a while before I went home and fell into bed.

I took Charlie around to different places, and he seemed surprised by everything he saw. I guess he really was. I left with Charlie more often than not, mostly just watching other people and wondering if this made them happy.

One night this guy sold me dodgy drugs, and I swear I thought we were both going to die. I felt really guilty then, because what if something bad happened to Charlie and it was my fault? But I needed him around to talk to.

I drank a lot while Charlie drank a little, and I tried to look sober in front of Sam and our parents. I kissed Charlie every night before I left his house, even though I knew it wasn’t right to do that to him.

Tonight I didn’t try to kiss him, because tonight was the night when I stopped drinking to make myself feel numb. And tonight was the night that I saw Brad. I went back to the park, I guess just to see if I felt different from last time I was there, and I saw him straight away. He was with some guy, and he didn’t see me.

I turned around and walked back to the car, and Charlie followed me. I drove him home without talking, just letting my thoughts swirl around in my head. I had this one last bottle of wine, and on the way I threw it out the window. I heard it smash but I didn’t stop, and Charlie didn’t seem worried.

We pulled up outside his house, and I looked over at Charlie and just kind of patted his shoulder. “Thanks for being my friend, Charlie.”

He nodded and smiled, and then he got out of the car and walked up to the soft lights of his house. I looked into the rear-view mirror as I drove away, and I saw Charlie wave. And I smiled, because I knew I was going to be okay.

I went home and told Sam about how I saw Brad in the park, and she gave me a hug and looked at me like she expected me to start crying. I realised then that I didn’t feel sad. Not really.

I guess before I saw him some part of me was still worrying about him even though I was trying my hardest not to even think of him. I’m just happy that he’s okay, and if hooking up at the park makes him happy then I’m glad for him.  I don’t think it will in the long run, but it’s not my problem to worry about anymore. I’m happy for him to live his life as best he can, and me to live mine as best as I can. I’m going to try to move on now, find other things to make me happy and look towards the future, because I think I’ve been hurting for long enough.

 

Love always,

Patrick

                                            

 

May 27, 1992

 

Dear friend,

Last Friday was my first day back at school since the fight, and it was okay. All my friends were there, and they just acted like I’d never been away. I didn’t avoid Brad, but I didn’t look for him either.

I decided not to go to _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_ that night, but I did go to the final football match with Sam and Charlie. I watched Brad and the game a bit, but mostly I talked to Charlie and Sam, and we joked around a bit, laughed quite a lot.

School has been a good distraction, and this last week everyone has been talking about the prom and graduation. It’s made me think more about the future and what I want to do. It’s nice to have things to look forward to, and I feel like it’s important to be moving towards something instead of just going through life waiting to be told what to do.

I asked Alice if she’d go to the prom with me, and she looked happy and said yes. Mary Elizabeth is going with her new guy Peter, and Craig agreed to take Sam this time. I’m glad about that, because I think that it was a bit rough that he didn’t go with her last time.

This Thursday, something happened which I wasn’t expecting. I was walking into school to pick up Charlie after detention, and Brad was walking out. He stopped, and I walked past him. Then after a minute I heard his footsteps coming after me, so I turned around. I thought maybe he was going to hit me again.

But instead he looked at me a bit nervously and said, “I’m sorry.” He swallowed. “For everything.”

I blew out my breath, and nodded. “Okay.”

I kind of wanted to hug him, to get some closure or something, but instead I stuck out my hand. We shook, and for a moment it was awkward but then Brad laughed a little bit and I laughed a bit, so it was okay. He nodded, and I said, “Seeya,” and then he walked away.

Our last day of school ever is on Friday, and I’m not sure if I want the time to pass quickly or not. Sam has made the decision to go to school at Penn State, which means doing the summer program. I know I’m going to miss her, but I’m glad that she’s found something she wants to do.

Last night we all went to the Big Boy, even Bob, and afterwards I asked Sam, “What would you call our group?”

“I don’t know. Outcasts, maybe?” She thought about it, and then said decisively, “Misfits. You’re a misfit, Patrick.”

I smiled. That’s fine by me.

 

Love always,

Patrick

 

 

 

 

June 10, 1992

 

Dear friend,

Friday was my last day of school. Everybody’s last day, except for Charlie. I didn’t spend lunchtime running around telling everybody that I’d miss them, like some people did. Because the people who really matter to me won’t be saying goodbye anytime soon.

School ended, and Sam drove Charlie and me to the Big Boy in her pickup truck, and we sat there smoking and smiling.

We decided to go out walking while we waited for it to be time for _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_ to start, and without even having to ask me Sam drove us to the golf course. We were walking up the hill to the eighteenth green, and I wasn’t thinking about the times there with Brad, I was thinking about that night when me and Charlie told stories, and we laughed so hard that we spat wine onto the grass.

The sun was setting over the top of the hill, bright orange mixed with pink like a child’s painting. We were talking and laughing, and then I started running towards the sunset. Running after the sun. I really thought in that moment that if I stretched my arms out wide enough, I could catch it and hold that beautiful sunset forever.

I could hear their footsteps on either side of me, and when we’d run so far we couldn’t run anymore, we collapsed together onto the grass, panting and laughing. And right then, I was so glad to be there, and so glad to be alive. It was like Charlie said. I felt infinite.

That night, I decided to play Frank ‘N Furter one last time. Everyone seemed happy that I did, even the guy who’d been playing the part since I quit. I remember singing the last song, “I’m going home” and even though it’s supposed to be sad, I had this huge smile on my face.

We went to Craig’s apartment afterwards, and we all toasted our future with champagne. Charlie was deejay, and we danced until we were flushed and sweating, and then he put on a softer song so that we could stop and talk. Sam was looking happy with Craig, and Mary Elizabeth was looking happy with Peter, and Charlie was looking around at everyone and just smiling a little smile.

I talked to Alice about her plans for the future, and she told me that she’s going to study films at New York University. She seemed really happy and excited, and the feeling was contagious.

“I’m going to the University of Washington,” I told her. “There’s a great music scene around there. I think I’d like to work for a record company some day. Maybe be a publicist or something like that.”

Alice nodded and said she thought I’d be good at that kind of thing, and she really seemed to mean it.

Yesterday was prom night, and me and Alice went with Sam and Craig in the limo Dad rented for us. We all felt nervous and excited, and even Craig was smiling. It turned out that the limo driver, Billy, was driving stoned, but we weren’t annoyed since he shared with us.

By the time we arrived there were people everywhere, the girls in their high heels not caring about anything except whether the boys in their uncomfortable suits thought their dresses looked nice. I held the door open for Alice, and she took my arm. She leaned over to me and whispered, “I think my deodorant’s showing.” I stepped away for a moment, and then said, “I can’t see anything,” even though it was showing, a little bit. I told her that I liked her dress, which was simple and suited her perfectly. She told me that my suit made me look handsome, and I laughed.

We met up with Mary Elizabeth and Peter on the way in, and the music was already playing inside. It was a pretty awful cover band called The Gypsies of Allegheny, but the drummer was good. I focussed on the drumbeat and danced along to that instead of the singer’s crooning.

A slower song came on and we split off into couples, Sam and Craig, Peter and Mary Elizabeth, me and Alice. Across the hall I could see Brad dancing with Nancy, and I guess my smile slipped a bit, but Alice grabbed my arm and spun me back around to face her. She grinned and I was glad to have a friend to go with, even if I didn’t have a date. I spun Alice under my arm and she twirled, laughing. I caught Sam’s eye and when the song changed she led Craig over to join us into a group again.

After the prom, we all streamed out into the night, and I guess we were all planning to go on to the after-party organised by the school. That is until we got into the limo and Craig told Sam that he rented a hotel suite for all of us.

“Oh,” Sam said, not looking as pleased as Craig obviously expected her to be.

“Mary Elizabeth and Peter will’ve already gone on to the party,” Alice pointed out. Craig looked around at our faces and said, “You don’t all have to come if you don’t want to. I’ll just go with Sam.”

By this time we’d pulled up outside the club where the after-party was being held, and we could see everyone going inside, some of them smuggling booze, and hear the music from inside.

Sam looked at Craig and said, “Actually, I kind of wanted to go to the party too.”

Craig got angry then and climbed out of the limo so that he could shout without his voice filling up the space inside the car.

“I rented it specially, as a surprise for you!”

“Craig –”

“I already paid for it! I can’t believe this!”

We all got out, and people were starting to glance our way.

“Craig,” I said. “Can you keep it down?”

He looked at me for a second and then said more quietly, “Well, I’m not going there on my own.”

Peter looked like he was going to say something angry to Craig, but then Sam smiled and said, “Of course I’ll go with you. Thanks, Craig. Really.” The smile was a little forced though.  

Billy leaned out of the window and said, “If we’re going somewhere, can we go now? Because Billy is stoned and wants to get out of here.”

Sam nodded and she and Craig got back into the limo. I watched as the car pulled away, feeling bad that I’d let Sam go, but not wanting to make Craig angrier or leave Alice here to be the third wheel.

The party was pretty good though, with a great deejay and a comedian. There were a few Blondie songs, and then “Smells Like Teen Spirit” by Nirvana played, and we all went crazy dancing and singing along. I just wished that Charlie and Sam could have been there.

Hours later we met Sam and Craig at the Big Boy for pancakes, and Sam looked fine, so I stopped worrying.

Things are going okay right now, and I just hope they stay that way for long enough for me to graduate and start over.

 

Love always,

Patrick

  


	3. Chapter 3

June 13, 1992

 

Dear friend,

Last night, Sam and Craig broke up. We were all at Craig’s house after Rocky Horror, and Peter was sitting near Sam and Mary Elizabeth. Then suddenly he got up and went over to Craig, and he said, loud enough for everyone to hear, “You tell her something now, or I tell her everything.”

Craig went white in the face, and then he walked over to Sam and led her into his bedroom. They were in there for a while, and we just sat there silently while Peter paced up and down. I’d worked it out by the time the door opened and Sam came out crying. She was sobbing, but silently, and she walked straight out the front door without stopping.

Craig had followed her out of his room, but he didn’t go after her when he saw that she was leaving. Mary Elizabeth gave him this cold look and then she and Alice went after Sam to make sure she was okay. Charlie stood up to go too, but I put a hand on his arm and shook my head slightly.

Craig walked over to Peter and said angrily, “What did you do that for?”

“Because I’ve had enough of your fucking excuses!”

“Fuck you, Peter! Fuck you!”

Peter yelled, “Don’t blame me that you fucked on her since the beginning! The afternoon of her prom!? You’re just a bastard! You hear me!? A fucking bastard!”

I stood up and walked over then, because it looked like they might start punching pretty soon. Craig was yelling at Peter that he wasn’t being a good friend by making him tell Sam, and Peter yelled back that he cared more about being a decent person.

I stepped in between them then, and Charlie helped me get Peter out of there. Craig just stood there, because I guess he knew really that he was wrong and Peter had done the right thing.

We took Peter to my car to drive him home, and he was still pretty angry. He ranted about Craig, and that’s how we got the details of what happened. He said Craig had been cheating on Sam ever since they started going out. Not just once, and for most of those times he was completely sober.

“I didn’t say anything because I didn’t know any of you. I didn’t know Sam. But things changed when I started going out with Mary Elizabeth, and I got to know Sam.”

Peter kept telling Craig that he had to tell Sam, but Craig always had some excuse. He didn’t want to ruin the prom for her. He didn’t want to ruin graduation for her. He didn’t want to ruin Rocky Horror for her.

It made me sick to know that it had been going on for so long. I should have figured it out when he missed shows, skipped the dance with Sam. Maybe I could have saved her pain if she’d found out earlier.

“The bastard never meant to tell her,” Peter seethed. “He was going to let her go off to college and think it was her fault that he stopped calling, never visited.”

He said what finally made up his mind to make Craig say something was the conversation Sam was having with Mary Elizabeth while Peter was sitting nearby. She said she thought that Craig might be “the one” and that she wanted to keep it going long-distance once she went away for school. That’s when he got up and demanded that Craig say something.

We dropped him off, and before I drove away he made me promise to make sure Mary Elizabeth didn’t think he was cheating on her, because he wasn’t, and he really liked her.

“I just don’t want to be found guilty by association with that prick.”

I nodded. “For sure. Thanks, Peter.”

I started driving, and I looked over at Charlie in the passenger seat. He looked like he might cry, or hit something.

“I wonder how much of it Craig actually told her,” I said.

Charlie said, “I hope not all of it.”

“Yeah. Enough to make her stay away, but not enough to make her hurt any more than she has to.”

We agreed not to tell her unless we found out that Craig made it sound like “nothing big” and Sam was ready to forgive him.

We drove around to all the places I could think of where the girls might have gone, but we didn’t find them. I figured that they were just driving around, trying to let Sam cool off a bit.

I dropped Charlie home and told him I’d call him. Then I went home and waited up in my room until I heard the rumble of a car outside. I opened the front door and watched as Mary Elizabeth and Alice said encouraging things to Sam, and then she got out of the car with red eyes. She smiled bravely as Mary Elizabeth pulled away, and then turned to see me standing there and kind of crumpled. I stepped forwards and caught her as she half-fell, putting her arms around my neck and burying her face in my shoulder.

I guided her inside and then just stood still and let her cry onto my shoulder. I patted her back and said quietly, “It’s okay.” Even though it wasn’t.   

She spoke into my shoulder, words muffled by my shirt and her tears, “I thought it was real. I thought it mattered. But it wasn’t real, and I guess I never mattered to him.”

I swallowed past the lump in my throat and said, “But you matter. You’re more than what he thinks of you. And this is...this is all about him.”

She looked up at me, confused. “What?”

“It isn’t ending because of you. The problem is him.” I just wanted her to know that she didn’t need Craig in order to be worth something.

She started to cry again, a real, shaking kind of crying. I held onto her, trying not to add my tears to hers. I remembered how much she helped me, and I wished right then that I’d gone to see Charlie after the Mary Elizabeth fiasco, because it isn’t right that he had no one there for him.

I stood there with Sam in the middle of that big empty room and wondered if people I loved would ever stop being hurt. And I wondered why it is that the people who matter most to us are the ones who have the power to hurt us.

Sam said she was going to bed, and I went into her room and kissed her forehead just before she fell asleep, so that she would know I was there.  

 

Love always,

Patrick

 

 

 

 

June 16, 1992

 

Dear friend,

We’ve graduated! That’s it, school over until college. Done, finished. It feels good. It really does.

Graduation was on Sunday, and Sam was still sad but tried to be happy because it was a special day and for our parents. I mostly just wanted to get the whole thing over with, but it was fun wearing the stupid hats. Sam followed me up and I could see her mum and my dad waving to us. Charlie was sitting in the bleachers with his family, and he smiled when he saw us. I smiled back, but I think he was too far away to tell.

He was surrounded by his family afterwards, so I let our parents shepherd us back to the car without protesting.

We went back home and our whole family was there, except that our whole family is just me and Sam, our parents, and Sam’s mum’s brother, who is really only Sam’s uncle. But he tries very hard to act like he’s my uncle too, so that’s okay. They poured champagne for me and Sam, and acted like it was a big deal that we were drinking with them, even though it really wasn’t since we’ve drunk plenty of times before. But they don’t know that, so we smiled and let them have their moment. Dad hugged me and not-quite-Uncle Jared hugged me too, and then I hugged Sam’s mum, and hugged Sam, and she laughed because I almost made her spill her drink.

Later, after our relatives kept drinking and we stopped and watched them acting happy, Sam turned to me. “I really want to see Charlie,” she told me.

I glanced at Dad half-asleep on the couch and passed her the phone.

“Hello...Yes, it’s Sam...Is Charlie there?...Okay.” There was a pause, and then, “Charlie?”

She grinned when she heard his voice on the other end. “When are you coming over?” She listened for a while, and then said, “Okay...we’ll be here until seven. Then we’ll call you from wherever we are.” A pause again. “Thanks, Charlie. Bye.”

She hung up, and I took the phone to my room so that I could call Mary Elizabeth and Alice and ask them to meet us at a club downtown.

Sam nodded to tell me that our semi-drunk parents had given us permission, and then we both ran down to my car. Sam wound down the windows as we sped along, so the wind whipped both our hair around while she grinned at me and at the world.

We fought through the crowd until we found Mary Elizabeth, Peter and Alice inside, where they were already drinking scotch and sodas. Peter offered to buy us some, and Sam got some kind of strange drink with cranberry juice and vodka, but I just shook my head and waited for her to finish. We joined hands and made our way into the middle of things, and we joined with the crowd, all of us moving together and colliding with the beat. It was a mess of bodies and sweat and smiles, and we blended into it and didn’t need anything more than that.

When both of us were tired and out of breath, we wound our way back to Mary Elizabeth and Peter, and there was Charlie beside them, sitting with his hands on his knees.

Me and Sam both said, “Charlie!” at the same time, and he stood up. We both hugged him like we hadn’t seen him in ages, because it felt like that.

I grinned and then lay down across Peter and Mary Elizabeth’s laps, and reached up to take Mary Elizabeth’s drink from her hand. I tipped my head back and swallowed all of it, and Mary Elizabeth took the cup back, saying, “Hey, asshole.” I winked at her and Peter just shook his head at me.

I saw Sam grab Charlie’s hand and her voice over the music, “I love this song!” They disappeared into the mass of people, and I felt my mouth curve into a smile. A slow song came on next, and the crowd separated out into couples, with some people walking off the floor to the bar. I could just see Sam and Charlie from where I lay with my head propped on the elbow that rested on Mary Elizabeth’s knee. I saw them lean in closer, talking, and then just dancing.

“Reckon they’ll kiss?” I asked, and Mary Elizabeth said, “Yes. He’d better have done that to me for a good reason.”

Peter looked at me a bit confused, but I just shook my head.

Afterwards, we went to Peter’s apartment, and I could see Sam trying not to remember Craig’s apartment. I made some joke, and she rolled her eyes at me, but the smile was back.

Charlie had bought presents, and he got them out of the trunk of his car and carried them up. He gave Alice a book and Mary Elizabeth a video, and then he passed a box each to me and Sam, wrapped up in the funny pages from the newspapers.

I ripped straight through the paper while Sam picked all the tape off and laid the paper carefully on the couch. Both of us opened the boxes, and took out what was inside. Six books each. I had _On the Road, Naked Lunch, The Stranger, This Side of Paradise, Peter Pan_ and _A Separate Peace._

Sam had _To Kill a Mockingbird, The Catcher in the Rye, The Great Gatsby, Hamlet, Walden_ and _The Fountainhead._

Underneath the books, there was a little card with words written on the type-writer Sam gave him.

 

_These are my copies of all my favourite books, and I want you to have them because you are my two favourite people in the world._

_– Charlie_

 

I looked up when I finished reading, and I looked at Charlie. I felt a little bit like crying and quite a lot like getting up and hugging him, but I didn’t, because I could tell that he already knew all the things I wanted to say.

“What do the cards say?” Mary Elizabeth asked.

“Do you mind, Charlie?” I said, and he shook his head, so Sam read her card out loud while Charlie went to fill his cup.

He walked back over and we all just looked at him. He took a breath and said, “I’m going to miss you all very much. I hope you have a great time at college.”

And then he started to cry, and I tried my hardest not to cry with him. Sam took his arm and led him into the kitchen, telling him that it was okay.

Mary Elizabeth and Alice looked away while I took some deep breaths past the lump in my throat, because I’m sure they knew that if I’d met their eyes right then I would have cried and probably not stopped for a long while. Peter just looked confused, and his face was so funny that I started to laugh instead of crying. Sam and Charlie came back in, and Charlie had red eyes, but he was okay.

We spent the rest of the time talking and drinking while Peter’s music collection played quietly in the background, and it was about one o’clock in the morning when Charlie sat straight up. “Oh my God!”

“What’s wrong, Charlie?”

“Tomorrow’s a school day!”

Everyone laughed at that, and I laughed harder than any of them with a kind of relief, because it hit me right then that it’s really over. I never have to go back there.

This is it. I’m free, and it’s time for the rest of my life to start.

 

Love always,

Patrick


End file.
